He then floated up to a vantage pointseveral feet above the accident. "Oh crap," he thought. "Am I dead?"The male voice spoke again: "You are not dead... Terry Martin. At least notyet." This time Martin sensed the voice was coming from behind him, andturned, astonished to see an imposing male figure with long flowing whitehair and beard, clad in a loincloth."Who are you supposed to be?" Martin asked. "God?" No, Terry Martin, I am not the God of the Heavens...let's say I'm one ofhis agents. I am. One Saturday I told the men about a dream I had about one of the secretaries from the office called Melanie and how she walked in to the fitting shop lifting her skirt and flashed her black stockings and suspenders at me, she sucked my cock before I fucked her from behind over the blacksmiths anvil. Everyone had a good laugh about it and I had the piss taking out of me for the next two weeks.One night at finishing time Bills wife Julia came in to the carpark to pick two bags of coal up with the. More

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